


A Prison of Her Own Design

by strangeallure



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Gen, Guilt, Hallucinations, LLF Comment Project, Prison, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 02:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13848060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure
Summary: Set after 1x2 “Battle at the Binary Stars”, during Michael’s time in prison.Michael is visited by a hallucination of Philippa Georgiou.





	A Prison of Her Own Design

Prison turns out to be a more communal experience than she would like. Shared mealtimes, shared showers, shared activities, when all she wants to be is alone.

Non-Vulcans are so chatty. Always trying to engage her in conversation, get her to participate beyond the work they are assigned to do.

It seems that lack of privacy is part of punishment.

In a Vulcan prison facility, she would be let alone to meditate on her failure, fed gruel and denied daylight. Solitary confinement is deemed inhumane by joint Federation standards, but still common on Vulcan.

And in a way it is fitting. That this _humane_ system denies her the solitude she desires.

The work is physically demanding and the hours long, but there are amenities. There is a variety of foods and beverages available as well as a library.

She has heard of convicts being drafted as miners to support the war effort. She should have been on the very first transfer: work in more grueling, less _humane_ conditions. Receive at least a fraction of the punishment she deserves.

\--

Since the system does not do it for her, she denies herself as much as she can.

Her dietary routine is flavorless, her only drink water. She does not visit the library. She should not find joy in food or drink or knowledge.

Philippa found joy in everything. She was a true explorer and good friend. She could be boisterous in her laughter and subtle in her compassion. She was well-read and smart, with a never-ending thirst for new experiences and a capacity to drink in every moment.

“Idealization, glorification, hero worship, all rolled into one,” a familiar voice says. “Who knew you could be so sappy?”

It’s Philippa Georgiou, sitting right there on the foot of her bed.

The lights went out hours ago, but Michael can see her clear as day. Clear as the day she lost her.

Philippa tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and gives her an incredulous look. “You didn’t accidentally leave me on the table in the mess hall, Michael. I died in battle, plain and simple.”

Michael swallows. This is a hallucination of course. Still it’s good to see Philippa again. Comfortable as always in her blue captain’s uniform with gold accents.

“You died because of me,” Michael says.

“I died because of war,” Philippa says matter-of-factly, dismissing Michael’s guilt with a shrug.

Both statements are true. Both hurt.

“I broke your trust. I rendered you unconscious and squandered the faith you and the crew had in me.” Michael’s face is impassive, her body still, but emotions are boiling up inside her, her stomach a pit of flames.

“You know I’m a hallucination.” Philippa huffs a small laugh. “And yet you rather tell me what I want to hear than the truth.”

“It is true,” Michael objects, her eyes widening, imploring, as the fire in her belly burns higher.

“Yes it is.” Philippa’s voice is indifferent. She continues, more impassioned: “And it’s what you should feel sorry for. After all these years, after the trust I put in you – as your mentor and as your friend.”

Michael nods, her throat growing tight.

“But in truth,” Philippa turns her head away, like she can’t even look at Michael for what she's about to say, “none of this would matter to you, if your plan had worked.” It’s an accusation Michael does not fully understand.

“I wanted to save you,” she says, her voice loud and human, so human.

“There is no respect without deference,” Philippa says. “And without respect for each other, what is there to fight for?” She gets up from the bed, a beam of moonlight playing on the metal badge attached to her chest. Her eyes lock with Michael's. “You were selfish and hot-headed and you put your own judgement before that of a superior officer.”

Michael swallows. “And I would do it again.”

Philippa sighs, “I know.” She comes closer, her hand briefly touching Michael’s face. “You have so much to learn, Michael.” She smiles ruefully. “I hope, someday, you will.”

The hallucination fades, but the feeling of fingertips on her face stays with Michael until she falls asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
> **Feedback** : short comments, long comments, questions, constructive criticism, "<3" as extra kudos, reader-reader interaction
> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
>   
>  **Author Responses** : This author replies to comments.


End file.
